About Him
by UnbreakableRose
Summary: He was my first love, my first heartache, my first rejection. He was also my first taste of pain. He made me suffer, but I stood by him, waiting for a day that never came.


His brown hair,his brown eyes. These might seem like normal traits, but they weren't. He was beautiful in his own way, as strange as it might sound. I met him when we were really young. I called him stupid and he hated me for that. Years after, the grudge still stood, proud and tall, just like him.

Sometimes, I think that it was a mistake loving him because he would never feel the same way. But, I couldn't stop myself from liking him. He was charming, funny, and most of all, he was screwed up. But I didn't want to fix him, I wanted to help him embrace his flaws, instead of rejecting them. I wanted him to embrace himself and never be scared of the world. I wanted to teach him to go out there and be himself and be brave- something I could never do.

I always dreamed of having someone beside me, loving me, making me happy. Over the years, they've come and gone, never truly loving me. My friends- all temporary. My family- permanent. It's strange that I could never tell my family about my feelings. I was afraid, I've been afraid my entire life. I was scared of getting rejected and ridiculed.

Why have I always been so hesitant? I don't know. I was like the Spartans: Fear controlled them and because of that they eventually collapsed. I will come crashing down soon. I wonder when it's going to happen. I wonder when it's all going to collapse for him. The empire he built, when's it going to fall?

I want to know what he's doing now. I think he's having fun. I think he's enjoying himself, living in the moment. He always had many friends, but none of them were real. They were using him and he knew that, but he didn't want to be alone. No one does.

He had always been the kind of person who made friends easily. That didn't mean they were true friends. He was lonely on the inside, but I was the only one who knew. He never let others in. _Never._ He lived behind a facade. He pretended he was strong, all for his reputation. It was silly. He put his image before his own feelings.

There were so many girls surrounding him. One after the other. One year, he has four girlfriends within the span of 2 months. I was always so jealous of those girls, but at the same time I was grateful. He never knew what he wanted. I would be there when he was ready, but he wasn't and he still isn't. You know, he's in a dead end relationship. He doesn't want to let go of her. I don't want to let go of him. It's an endless cycle of pain, unless one of us does the "impossible"- move on. I don't want to get hurt anymore, either. It's one thing to say you're going to move on, it's another thing to actually do it. For him, I'd do anything, but I'm not, and never will be, ready to make a commitment to him, knowing that he'll just find another victim when he gets bored.

That was one of his shortcomings. He could never stay still. It was always someone new every month. I hated thinking about it, knowing that I would never be one of his girls. But I didn't want to be. I didn't want to be used. I came to realize that _he_ was the one being used. _He_ was the marionette, he was the toy. All he ever wanted someone to love him and no one did that. He wanted warmth and no one helped him tend to his fire. He was cold and he was trying to hide it. One relationship, then another. He knew that he was being used, but didn't say anything. It hurt too much for him. Seeing him like that hurt me, too. I didn't want him to suffer like that. He was too precious for that, flaws and all.

There were times where I wanted to kiss him. I still do. His lips were so irresistible, as was he. I loved him and I didn't let go. It's selfish, but I didn't. I would continue to hurt, as would he. We are both wounded, we have both shed blood for love, and we have both come back injured. We are soldiers. We are all soldiers. We all fight our own battles, getting hurt in process. In the end, we come out injured, bruised, battered, and bloody. We also come out stronger than when we went into battle. This is a beautiful thing, no matter how hurt you are, and you learn. You learn to love, to fight, and to be strong.


End file.
